


Let’s Forget the Rest

by devil_on_your_shoulder27384



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-5x13, Post-Canon, Rough Sex, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29167521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devil_on_your_shoulder27384/pseuds/devil_on_your_shoulder27384
Summary: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or something.Post-5x13.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Let’s Forget the Rest

Brian is doing crunches on his workout mat in a sweat-darkened muscle tank that stretches obscenely over his chest. Justin stands in the doorway and stares.

One of the stranger parts of going long-distance is that he’s not being exposed daily to Brian’s enigmatic beauty, his poised, practiced, cocky hotness that can melt the pants off of every guy in a ten-foot vicinity. Over the years, Justin’s built up a necessary immunity to the shock of it, but now every time they see each other there’s one or two moments when it knocks him sideways all over again.

Brian sits up and sees him. “Hey,” he says, face breaking into a gorgeous warm grin. Justin’s knees threaten to buckle.

“Hey,” he says back. He toes off his shoes and walks over to the mat.

“You see Daphne?”

Justin nods. “Yeah.” He can’t stop staring.

Brian notices his glassy-eyed look. His mouth curls slowly, slowly into a wolfish smile. Justin swallows a squeak.

Brian jumps to his feet and kisses him, hard. He tastes and smells like sweat, like _Brian_. Justin has to tear himself from Brian’s mouth so he can take long greedy licks of his neck.

Brian chuckles low and quiet in his throat. He rakes the nails of his left hand through Justin’s hair, expertly undoing his jeans with his right. Justin swallows and whimpers and allows himself to be as slutty as he wants.

He hitches a leg up around Brian’s hips, grinding deliciously on him, and licks the sweat off the edge of Brian’s jaw. This, he thinks, this is the thing we can’t do over the phone.

And it seems silly, maybe, but it’s true. Because they’re _happy_ , so absurdly fucking happy, and a thousand miles or whatever doesn’t hold a fucking candle to the unarguable fact that he is always Brian’s and Brian is always his. Even if we never live in the same city again, he thinks - purely hypothetical, Brian’s already started talking about moving Kinnetik nationwide and he’s fucking obsessed with New York - but even if we don’t, nothing will change. But god, his skin.

Justin sucks greedily at Brian’s throat. He tastes like he did all those years ago in the suite in New York after Justin ran, dark and exotic and masculine. Brian gives him a knowing little smile, then grabs his ass and lifts him off the ground, and Justin wraps both his legs around his waist and lets himself go dizzy with how good it is.

Brian walks them over to the closed loft door, their mouths fused. Brian’s growling, softly, as he kisses him, like he’s in danger of just devouring him whole. Dazedly, Justin thinks, as Brian sets him down and tears at his clothes, that he wouldn’t really mind that.

The door is cold against his back. He doesn’t care. Brian, against his front, is sizzling. He tugs helplessly at Brian’s workout clothes, pulls his shirt over his head, his shorts off, and Brian slams him back against the door and kisses him until he can’t breathe. When they separate, Brian’s eyes are dark and wild, and Justin thinks distantly that he’s not the only one losing his mind from this.

Brian produces lube, a condom, and kisses him viciously while he opens him up. Justin’s already seeing stars from Brian’s thick slippery fingers inside him, and he has to bite his cheek hard enough that it bleeds to stop himself from shooting right then. 

Brian takes a mercifully short time getting him ready. It’s going to burn, probably, but Justin is old and wise enough now to admit that he needs that part. It’s a part of it, he thinks, one soft moment of nostalgia, and then Brian’s lifting him up again against the door and pressing roughly into him, and oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-

He holds them there for a moment, Justin folded in half between him and the door, his ankles on Brian’s shoulders. Justin has his eyes wide open. He’s breathing hard. Desperate. 

I’m going to wreck him, Brian thinks. 

He rolls his hips in one measured upward thrust. Justin’s eyes roll back in his head and he chokes on nothing, his hands scrabbling for something to clutch onto.

Good, Brian thinks, and starts up a rhythm of those, nice deep grinds right up at that same angle. Justin’s mouth falls open. He keens, gasps, “Please-”

Brian doesn’t know what he’s asking for, so he just kisses him, shoving his tongue rudely into Justin’s mouth. Justin moans brokenly and grabs handfuls of Brian’s hair, pulling hard enough that it’ll ache tomorrow, Brian knows from past experience.

Justin lets go of his mouth and pushes his face up under Brian’s chin, breathing in short deep gulps. Brian smiles to himself and fucks him just a little harder.

“You love me like this,” he says. It’s not a question. “All dirty and sweaty and rough.”

Justin nods frantically, licking shamelessly over his Adam’s apple. “Yes,” he gasps. “Harder, Brian, please-”

Brian grins. “You want it harder?”

“What- did I just- fucking- say-” Justin grunts. Brian holds his hips steady up against the door and snaps his hips up into him with every ounce of strength he has, and Justin shrieks.

“Ohfuck-” he moans, kissing messily over Brian’s face until he zeroes in on his mouth. “Yes, Brian, yes, yes, _yes_ -”

Brian would reply, but Justin’s just swallowed half his tongue again, so it’s a little difficult. Instead, he focuses on keeping up a drilling merciless rhythm that makes Justin’s breath stutter and his hands fly up over his face.

Justin looks blissed out, his eyes somewhere far away. “Look at me,” Brian snarls, and then Justin’s there with him again, scratching at his back, growling orders for more, deeper, faster.

“I love you,” Brian pants, helplessly, not really planning on it, but what else is there to say? Justin is someone he’d never imagined could exist, a kindred spirit, the way he’s become a piece of his soul. Justin doesn’t say it back - not that he needs to - but he looks at Brian with frightening, adoring clarity before kissing him. It’s sweet, ridiculous, really, in the middle of a down-and dirty reaming, but it’s perfect. It’s us, Brian thinks, too dizzy with his impending orgasm to sneer at himself for such a sentimental thought.

Brian never wants this kiss to end, so he holds on and keeps their mouths pressed together even as Justin comes, moaning low in his throat, hot cum splattering between their bodies. Brian follows, shoving roughly up into him and holding there with a groan.

They stay there, melded, for a moment, panting. Then one of Justin’s legs slips from around his waist, so Brian lowers him carefully to the floor. His arms feel limp and exhausted; talk about a workout, he thinks, wryly. Justin nuzzles softly into his shoulder, and Brian watches the tip of his tongue slip out to swipe up the new sweat that’s beaded there.

“You’re insatiable,” he mumbles, staring at him, drowning in love and awe and wonder. Justin laughs and kisses his cheek. “Shower,” he says, and takes Brian’s hand, leads him on legs that are just slightly wobbly up to the bathroom.


End file.
